CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: MyChemicalRomance70 recommended the song, "Superhuman Touch" by Athelete for Ron & Pansy this go around. It perfectly reflects Ron's thoughts here. So, this chapter is dedicated to MyChemicalRomance70 - congratulations! Lyrics for that song appear at the bottom of this chapter. Hope you'll find this song somehow and give it a listen.
Remember, I'll accept song suggestions for each couple, as well as digitally manipulated images of live people and your original hand-drawn or digitally drawn fanart for this story up until the end of this fic is published. SEND ME YOUR LISTS OR ARTWORK! I'll pick my favorites, and reward you, as promised!
P.S. Unseenlibrarian should really take up editing as a job, don't you think? She's fantastic at it!
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CHAPTER FOUR (#6): Ron & Pansy
Pansy was in a frisky mood, racing Ron once more to their private room. He let her win again, because it made him happy to see her laughing. "Let's see," she put her hands on her hips in a rather sexy pose, as he shut the door behind them. "That's three now you owe me."
Ron shook his head, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. This sassy woman in front of him now was so different from the Parkinson he'd known before; he'd never have guessed that he'd once believed her to be the cold Bitch Queen of Slytherin. Where had that woman gone? "Four," he corrected her with a wide-stretching grin. "Two at the couches, one here, and one last round."
Her giggle was downright naughty and suggestive. "Well, far be it from me to argue with my astute partner," she easily conceded, and Ron found he liked her better this way – playful, unregulated, and exuberant.
"Wanna collect now?" he asked, dropping his arms and stalking her towards the bed. Every step he took forward, she took one back, her eyes glimmering with renewing desire.
She stopped suddenly and held her hands out, her card held in one of them. "Wait, wait! Cards." She waggled hers back and forth in front of him. "What's yours say?"
Ron lifted his in his left hand and read it aloud:
DEED: Your partner has to kiss your neck, ears, face and lips as you instruct them.
Pansy sighed in happiness, but her smiled slipped as she turned her own card over and read it:
FORFEIT: Apologize to your partner for any mean things you've ever done to them.
"We could be here all night on my punishment alone," she wryly commented, wincing with sincere regret. "There are a lot of things to be sorry for." She looked down at the ground, her good humor lost in an instant.
The reality of their particular situation really struck home then, and Ron realized that he'd been purposefully ignoring their past, shunting it from his mind because the sex stuff had felt too good, and honestly, he didn't want it to stop. But there was a lot between he and Pansy that couldn't be ignored - and all of it had been bad. In fact, prior to two and a half hours ago, he was quite sure this woman would have happily spit in his face rather than let him touch her. Now… everything had changed. Now they wanted each other with an almost desperate need.
How in the hell did that happen - especially to someone like him, who had never had very good luck with women?
The truth was Ron had always felt a bit like a fish out of water in bed. There'd been 'Mione, a one-off with Lavender that had become quite regular after that (despite being casual), and for a month in between last September and now, there had been Romilda Vane in his bed. In all three cases, though, he'd never felt completely free to enjoy himself sexually, as he'd always been worried about his technique and whether he was actually making the girls come (he suspected 'Mione, at least, had faked it throughout their relationship so as not to hurt his feelings). It had put him off, held him back, and had made him feel inadequate as a lover as a result.
Until Parkinson, that was.
Her reactions to his touches were honest. He knew she orgasmed for him. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she liked what he did to her. She might have been able to sham the cries of pleasure, but she couldn't fake the rush of her body's juices that had coated his lips and fingers when she came. She couldn't simulate her nipples tightening or the blood flushing through her cheeks at the moment she peaked her bliss. She couldn't falsify the way her pupils dilated, or how her clit quivered against his tongue.
Pansy didn't make him feel incompetent as a lover at all, and that did more for his self-confidence than anything else could. It also made him want – no, need - to touch and taste her often, as if she were some addiction he had no will to deny.
Speaking of which…
"I'll just go ahead and give you permission to touch me anyway and anywhere you want to for the rest of the game," he stated with a leer, taking one step forward, smirking wickedly and licking his lips. "Your turn."
Parkinson's eyes glittered with growing desire. "I give you permission… to touch me anyway and anywhere you want for the rest of the game," she repeated his words to him, taking one step closer. They were now less than a foot apart, gazing at each other with hunger.
Ron stepped the final, short distance between them to plant himself directly against her. Reaching out, he cupped Pansy's jaw, tilted her head back a bit, and looked into her shimmering, dark eyes. Despite being shorter and much slighter of build (he was the second tallest student in school, coming in at three inches above six feet and Parkinson was about average for a girl, about the same height as Hermione and Lavender both – maybe five and a half feet tall), his witch had a commanding presence that made him conscious of her in a way he had never previously been aware of a woman. It was something in the way she held herself, with straight back and shoulders, a tilted chin and direct stare that could pin you in place, like his mum when she was upset, and features that were striking enough to notice from a distance, like a supermodel. She appeared strong, someone you couldn't intimidate easily, a fighter. He respected her all the more for such bite.
And yet, despite that, he was willing to give her an out, knowing from experience how she would straighten her spine and extend her claws when backed into a corner. "I don't mind switching cards, if you want."
Pansy's eyes widened in surprise (as if she hadn't expected such a bloody nice offer), but she shook her head firmly in answer to the proposition. Dropping her card, she wrapped her arms about his neck, locking her gaze onto his fervently. "No, I want to act out my card. I need to… before things go all the way between us… so you'll know I'm not playing you."
Despite how Hermione or Harry might believe him completely incapable of fathoming the opposite sex, Ron understood exactly what Pansy was saying in that moment. He didn't want there to be any lingering doubts or resentments when he finally had her, either; nothing to contaminate the sex, to keep it from being fun and wild. And there was absolutely no question any longer that he was going to have Pansy Parkinson at some point during this game. To hear her admit it, however – to know she wanted it, too – made his chest tighten and his dick jerk awake in his pants.
He nodded in agreement to her reasoning, letting her jaw go, slipping that same hand down her back to hold her close. "Why don't we do the cards together?" He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "For each apology we give, we kiss."
Pansy's eyes lit up and the shadows of dread left her features entirely, replaced by relief and appreciation. "You'd really do that… apologize to me back?"
He nodded sincerely. Having grown up with a mother as dominating as his, Ron understood the importance of saying you were sorry to a witch if you wanted to keep your balls. Sure, he faltered all the time with 'Mione, but that's because she was… well… 'Mione (as soon as they'd broken up and the romantic feelings had passed on, his ex- had been mentally shifted right back into the 'buddy' category alongside Harry, and saying 'I'm sorry' to your mates was done differently than with your girl - usually without words, maybe a grunt or two and a handshake, and an offer to buy a round). He'd treated Lavender and Romilda like a love interest should, though, and frequently apologized (when the girls deemed it necessary, usually indicated by a frown or an arched brow of disapproval). "Sure. I haven't exactly been nice to you either, yeah?" He waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly, trying to put her in a better mood. "'Sides, it's free kisses!"
Playfully smacking him lightly, Pansy chuckled. "Is that all you think about? My mouth on you?"
Ron bumped his forehead into hers and stared her down with a naughty grin. "Not the only thing, no. Imagining your mouth all over me definitely gets me hard, but..." He rubbed his nose along hers, then down her cheek seductively, pressing his lips to her ear. "…the thought of my cock up inside you, fucking you so good that you cry out for more, making you come for me continually until you pass out from exhaustion… that's the real prize, baby," he whispered, as if it were a secret just for the two of them alone.
His partner's lids fluttered closed as she groaned, reacting instantly to the desire he'd ignited just by planting that vision into her mind. Her body twined itself around his rather sinuously, one leg lifting to wrap about his, her arms snaking around his neck, her fingers thrusting into his hair. "You're making it difficult to concentrate," she sighed in a sing-song voice, letting her cheek rub cat-like against his.
"That's the plan," he murmured and chuckled, letting his hands rub circles over her bum. "Here's an even better idea for you: if we both forfeit, we could bang about for the next several hours, and I'll let you apologize to me that way instead. Whaddaya say?"
His witch actually considered it, biting her bottom lip, but finally shook her head. "Not yet. I really like this game. It's helping me to know the real you." She opened her eyes and stared at him with some consternation combined with a touch of wary anger. "Or is sex all you're interested in from me?"
Rubbing one scarred set of knuckles against the soft skin of Pansy's cheek, he considered her question. What did he want from Parkinson? "Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to shag you senseless," he admitted with a wry smile. "But that's not all I want, no." He wasn't sure where the words came from, but he felt his heart beating faster as he spoke them, recognizing them instantly as truth. "I… I like you, Parkinson. Didn't think I ever would, but there it is. You're funny and affectionate and you're so fucking hot. This whole thing between us has blown me away and, well… I kind of like it. You're… gods, you're an amazing chick." With his free hand, he pressed against the sway of her back, bringing his revived erection prominently against her abdomen to prove his words. "I'm glad now that I got you for my partner."
Pansy looked like she was on the verge of crying. "Ron…" she sobbed and buried her face into his shoulder and held on tight, her thin shoulders slightly shaking. He returned her embrace with equal pressure, nuzzled his nose into her fragrant hair, inhaling and letting her soft and sensual scent – a fragrance that reminded him of the sunshine, oak bark, honey flower and amber resin of an English forest in summer - override his mind's whirling thoughts.
He didn't know how long they stood like that, but it was nice to feel her warmth against him. Ron had never been the hugging type (mostly because the three women he'd dated previously weren't the hugging types either, and hugs from family members were boisterous and hard, not soft), but with Pansy, it didn't feel so odd. He rather liked it. He thought he wouldn't mind spending another couple of minutes just like this, in fact, but his witch had taken those moments to compose herself once more and stepped back, dropping her leg from around him. Her dark eyes glimmered wetly. "Um… so, I should go first, I guess, since it was my card."
Taking her hand, Ron led her to sit on the bed next to him where they could be more comfortable. She entwined the fingers of those clasped hands on her lap, and stroked across his rough knuckles with her free hand, tracing the patterns of his scars and still-healing cuts tenderly. "I guess I should start with the first insult I ever threw at you," she forlornly stated, sniffing delicately. "Do you remember it?"
Ron tried to think back. When was the first time he'd met Pansy Parkinson? Oh, that's right – at King's Cross Station. Harry had already arranged for his trunk to be taken by the porter and stowed, and he was awaiting his turn when a girl with dark hair and very fine robes cut in front of him, placing her trolley directly before the porter. He'd made some comment to the effect that she was splinching lines, and she'd turned to look at him with disdain and anger.
"First Year, Hogwarts Express platform. You told me that you'd been waiting in line for the porter, and that I had to have been mistaken in calling you out for a line cutter," he smirked, recalling how adorably irate (although he hadn't thought so at the time; he'd thought her a shrew then) she'd been at the accusation.
Pansy looked up at him. "I had been waiting in line. He'd ignored me, however, when Potter appeared. Just dropped me flat in favor of The Boy Who Lived."
Ron blinked in surprise. "Really? I didn't know that."
Parkinson nodded. "The game won't let me lie, remember?"
"Shit," Ron breathed out heavily. "Then… fuck, I owe you the apology."
His partner shrugged. "As I recall, I started the insulting first."
He thought about it. What had she said to him? "Didn't you shriek something to the effect that the hand-out line for the poor started around the corner?"
Pansy's lips twitched with amusement that she quickly stamped out by pursing them. "Something like that, yes." She shook her head. "I was really quite angry with the porter for ignoring me as he had, and then you for insinuating that I was cutting the line. I took it out on you, though, because it was easier – you weren't an adult." She looked up at him with chagrin. "I'm sorry for that cruelty."
Ron's eyebrow twitched and he tsk'd, feigning shocked disappointment. "Eleven year olds these days… Shocking little blighters!" He grinned cheesily. "Gimme a kiss and I suppose I'll forgive you, though."
His witch did let her smile break through then, and leaned forward, tilting her face to him. Her lips touched down gently on his, pulling softly. It was only a second or two, but man, it got his dick harder than rock, because he felt the sincerity behind the action. "Your turn," she nudged him in a low, teasing voice.
"Um… I apologize for calling you a bossy, blind bint that day," he traded, and pressed his mouth down on her, mimicking her performance with a quick pull of lips.
Wow, who'd thought that such small kisses would be so… nice?
Pansy bit her bottom lip as she pulled away. Seemingly embarrassed with her next thought, she looked down at the collar of his embroidered jacket and let the fingers of her free hand come up and fiddle with it, straightening, smoothing it down so it lay correctly over his bulky shoulders. "I'm sorry for saying you were an ungraceful clod in Second Year."
Ron laughed. "You've always called me that."
His partner withdrew her hand and fanned herself off with it instead. "That was the first time I said it to you, actually. It was in the Alley, and we were going into Flourish & Blotts for Lockhart's book signing before the term began; you bumped into me as you were rushing past, remember? You nearly knocked me over."
"Oh, yeah," he remembered, his gaze focusing inwardly on the past for a second. "You were there with your mum?"
Parkinson hummed in concurrence. "When you bumped me, it had a domino effect. I knocked into her, and she fell into my aunt, who nearly landed in a crate of worm-rot apples that some street vendor was selling." She kissed him again, staring at him through half-closed lids as she pulled away. "Sorry for shouting that after you as you ran past."
Ron leaned forward and took his kiss before speaking. "Sorry for bumping into you and rushing off so rudely. We were looking for Harry. He'd Floo'd into Knockturn Alley by mistake. Rough neighborhood. We were worried."
Pansy accepted the apology with a nod. He kissed her again, grinning mischievously, knowing he'd overstepped the game to sneak in a second reward. "Cheater," she accused gently, smiling as well.
He shrugged. "You'll live."
His partner leaned back in the bed, facing the ceiling. Ron followed her down, lying next to her on his side, leaning up on an elbow to see her better. She was concentrating again, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry for the incident in the storage cupboard during Double Potions in Third Year. You know, when we got locked in."
Ron considered that memory. "Are you sorry for insulting me or for slapping me that time? Or for getting us locked in there in the first place?"
She turned her head and looked at him earnestly. "All of the above."
"Then, I'm sorry for dumping the whole bottle of Glop of Pixie Sperm all over your head for hauling off on me," he yielded. Internally, he congratulated himself for saying that with a straight face.
Pansy scrunched up like she'd bitten into sour lemons. "I still don't see how something so small can produce something so foul-smelling," she rhetorically stated, then poked him in the chest. "Well, it serves you right that you had to breathe the fumes with me until Snape let us out. What were you thinking, opening such nasty tripe in an enclosed space?"
Ron shrugged, also scrunching up his brow and cheeks in a grimace. "I was thirteen and thought it would be a laugh. I had no idea it would stink so bad." He made a defensive gesture with his free hand. "Hey, it's not like they tell you such things in Third Year Potions textbooks. And besides, who'd milk the wee folk for their sperm? It'd have to be some dodgy head case, because the idea is totally mental to start. Can you imagine trying to wank them off? How would you accomplish that even? They're so small!"
Parkinson burst into hysterics, her face glowing with fuchsia merriment. "Maybe… they buy 'em… a subscription to… WeeWitch," she gushed while wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. "And give them… a shot glass."
Ron chortled. "Cute. Naked pixies whacking off tiny erections to little, blue centerfolds… I think my mind is permanently fried now."
"What do you mean now?" his girl mocked, grinning like that bloody cat from Alice in Wonderland. "You've always been brain-damaged, Weasley."
"Cheeky skirt," he accused, shaking his head with jest. His hand shot out and grabbed a hold of her left boob and honked it twice. He feigned innocence. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss, but you see, my cooked skull can't seem to manage my limbs anymore." He started massaging her breast. "I hate when this happens. This here's a reflex impulse - completely uncontrollable."
Pansy giggled, but as the seconds ticked by, her smile fell once more and she grew strangely quiet, her eyes narrowing in thought. Such concentration made an adorable dent in her forehead, but caused his hand to stop in its fun for the moment, unsure as to whether such groping would be further tolerated. "You know… speaking of spontaneous response," she stated, making a cute moue with her lips. "Now that I reflect on it, I might have done that on purpose. Locked us in that day, I mean. Unconsciously, of course."
Bewildered by such a contradictory statement, Ron gave her a skeptical expression. "That doesn't make a lick of sense, woman. How can you do something intentionally, but without meaning to?"
Shaking her head and snuffing in amusement, Pansy snickered under her breath. "I mean, I had hold of the handle and was leaving, but you said something and I just had to turn back and retort. I let go of the door. I knew it locked from the outside, so why did I do that? I'm not usually prone to such… thoughtlessness."
"Ah, gotcha." He chuckled, waggling his eyebrows, trying to regain some of the earlier silliness. "Maybe because I'm mint at firing you off?"
Parkinson caved with a snigger. "Yes, you are at that." Leaning up, and using her free hand to tug him down with pressure on his jacket, she snogged him a good one, slipping her tongue into the mix, lapping against and between his lips wantonly and evocatively. "You definitely fire me off, Mr. Weasley."
He sighed in longing. "Bloody hell, woman, I'm as hard as a rock from just that! Look what you do to me." He grabbed her hand off the lapel of his coat and yanked it down to feel the bulge between his legs. His erection was very prominent.
Recognizing his desire for her, Pansy seriously contemplated him for a few heartbeats in silence, before saying something that quite honestly floored him. "We are like Malfoy and Granger, aren't we? How weird."
Ron leaned up off his hand, raising himself higher on his elbow. "Whaddaya mean?"
His partner's fingers began rubbing his cock gently, absently. He didn't dare say anything to make her stop, enjoying her stroking too much, despite his curiosity. "I mean, it's obvious now that I look at it. Just like them, we've always antagonized each other. I've been rather obsessed with it, honestly. I don't feel the need to go out of my way to insult Potter, or even Granger, like I do you. You're… special."
Scoffing in amusement, he helped her hand along by guiding it all up and down his length, spreading his top leg wide open, letting the knee bend upright. "Special enough to insult? That's kinda wack."
His partner shook that dark chestnut hair of hers back and forth, swishing it rather attractively from side to side, all the while never pausing in her caressing of his steel-hard nine iron. "No, special enough to pay attention to you, and to want you to pay attention to me back – even if that awareness was negative." She tilted her head, her gaze traveling over his face, assessing it carefully. "It was… like foreplay, or something. I got off on yanking your chain as often as possible."
The imagery combined with her hand's action was too much. Pushing her hand down onto the mattress, Ron pounced, pressing Pansy back into the bed, straddling her with his heavier form. "I get off on you yanking my chain as well," he grinned slyly, running fingers through that silky, shiny hair of hers. "So… you're saying that we really were attracted to each other all this time?"
His partner shrugged daintily and hummed in agreement. "Rich girl, poor boy. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Wrong side of the tracks for both of us." She grinned impishly. "It was fated that we'd want to fuck."
Inside his pants, Ron's cock was now swelling to proportions that were painful. "Say that last part again," he dared her, leaning forward until their lips were barely touching.
Pansy's lids lowered with sultry languidness as she stared up at him. Licking her painted lips, she gave him a wicked smirk. "It was fated that I'd want to take your hard, tasty cock into my desperate mouth, Ron, and that you'd want to lick my wet, begging pussy, and that we'd want to fuck sweetly and strong, and that after, you'd want to kiss me until I died."
His heart practically stopped at her lurid descriptions. Swallowing hard, Ron felt an unnamed emotion well up inside, pulsing its way up his throat and into his mouth. "Fuck, baby, say you want us to do that right now or I'm gonna pop."
Small fingers traced a line over his hip, across his waistband, and dipped to trace his hardened length under his tight trousers again. "Oh, yes, I want us to tear each other's clothes off and fuck each other into the mattress… but not yet. If we do, this game ends for both of us. You know we'll have to forfeit, because I don't think once will be enough for either of us. It certainly won't be for me. I'll want you for hours, Ron. I'm not exaggerating, and I know a spell that will give us that. Daphne taught it to me." She leaned up to kiss him just once as her hand stroked over his sack and one finger trailed naughtily over that spot right underneath that made him jerk with need. "There's still so much we can do with the cards – things we can explore about each other. I want to try it all with you. I want to tie you up and feed you, I want you to play with me with toys, I want to massage you and have you massage me, I want you to spank me nicely, and I want to bathe with you… I want us to play and enjoy this time together. I want us to talk and get to know each other better so that when we do have sex, it'll be so good, because we'll know what the other likes." She looked up at him sincerely. "If we rush it, we'll miss all of that."
Shit… this all sounded like a dream come true for a bloke: a beautiful witch wanted him to pleasure her fully, and to give it right back to him. Talk about something right out of the story pages of PlayWitch! "Right. You're abso-fucking-lutely right, baby," he agreed, swallowing back his animalistic needs. "I want all of that, too."
She teased him only a moment or two more with those sinful fingers of hers, before moving her hand away. Underneath him, she stretched in a very kittenish manner, her mood switching instantaneously to that of the rascal. "Then you go again," she smartly challenged, being sure she thrust her breasts into his chest with a provocative arch of her back. "I rather like hearing you apologize to me, my sexy wizard."
Sighing with partial disappointment, partial pain, Ron sat up on his knees and adjusted his "package" purposefully in front of her, sticking his hand down his pants and moving his stiff prick to a more comfortable position. Parkinson's eyes, he noted, followed his every move like a snake entranced by a flute player. She even stuck her pink tongue out and wetted her lips, and in her eyes, he saw the promise of more sucking of his jolly stick in the very near future.
He moved off of her, laying back into the same position at her side as he'd been earlier, trying to calm his racing blood. He ached clear through to his bollocks. It was time to get back in the game, which would serve as a good distraction from his thoughts of soaping up Pansy's breasts… "Okay, so, uh… my turn. Right. I'm sorry for…" He thought about his history with this girl again, digging for an appropriate instance where they'd clashed. "Ah, I know: for saying you and your dress looked ugly at the Yule Ball in Fourth Year."
Pansy frowned. "You mean on the staircase?"
He nodded, still squirming, having trouble finding a "cozy spot" in his pants. He was throbbing with need. "Yeah, remember Cedric called Harry away, and you were at the top of the landing on the Second Floor – what were you doing there anyway? I went on up to get back to the dorms without him, and we passed each other on the stairs and you said…"
"'Evening, Weasley. I see your date abandoned you. Why am I not surprised?'" she quoted verbatim. "I went to use the loo. Second Floor girl's bath is the closest to the Entrance Hall."
"Oh, well, yeah," he understood finally. "And I said in reply…"
"'You're looking particularly ugly tonight, Parkinson. With all of dad's money, you couldn't find a dress to flatter?'" she remembered, snuffing now at the silliness of that exchange.
Ron felt the blush creep up his cheeks. "Uh, yeah. Wow, you have a good memory."
She snickered, claiming her kiss. "I'm not in the top ten of the class for nothing, you know."
His jaw hit the mattress. "Wha…? Seriously?" Now, Ron realized that sentiment had come out all wrong – the sounding shocked part, specifically – but it was his gut reaction and he didn't curb it in time. Wincing, he hoped she wouldn't slap him into next week.
Pansy snorted, looking particularly proud of herself. "I'm no Granger, Malfoy, Greengrass or MacMillan – all of whom seem to have an almost freak ability to remember the tiniest facts - but I've always been able to hold my own at homework and tests. I like to read and study."
Pushing up on his elbow, he leaned over Slytherin's Queen Bee, incredulity plastered to his features. "I didn't know that!"
His partner's dark, delicate eyebrow arched at him with amusement. "Yes, you did," she countered, walking her fingers up his arm and back down again, apparently just for the pleasure of touching him. "Think back - how many times have we had an altercation while I was reading?"
Frowning, Ron sat up, leaning an arm on one bent knee. How many times had they sniped at each other over the years? Too many to count (as Pansy had rightly said, they could be there all night apologizing to each other). As he considered it now, though, he realized she was right. He frequently saw her in the library, and would pass by with a snide comment before moving on to find 'Mione. She had a favorite window perch in the Charms corridor where she'd sometimes sit to look out at the view… and she'd always be reading, wouldn't she? And those times during the late spring when he'd catch her and her Slytherin girl friends sunbathing or picnicking on blankets outside in the grassy area near the Quidditch Pitch… she always had a book in her hand or tucked under her arm, didn't she? Why hadn't he put it together before?
"So, what do you like to read?" he asked, realizing he'd terribly misjudged her for years (thinking her more concerned with fashion and gossip and making people miserable than engaging in more intelligent pursuits, and feeling rather foolish about that presumption). "What's your favorite subject?"
Pansy didn't answer immediately, and he turned his head to find out why. She was biting her lip again, and her blush ran from her neck to her forehead. "You'll laugh at me."
Maybe the old Ron might have, yeah, but the Ron that was here with her now… no. He didn't believe he had it in him anymore to laugh at her expense. Twisting about and situating himself over her, straddling her body, he petted her soft cheeks with his fingers. "Promise I won't," he swore sincerely, capturing her gaze. "I'll even tell you mine."
His partner gave him an assessing look. "You love Quidditch," she stated rather perceptively. "You hate Potions and Divination, and could give or take the rest with equal indifference."
Surprised by her rather accurate assessment of his character, Ron grinned slyly. "Guess which of those tolerable subjects I like best, though."
Tilting her head, her short, dark hair fanning over the white coverlet as a result, his girl mulled it over for half a minute more. "Care of Magical Creatures."
He grinned, silently acknowledging her answer with a curt nod. "Very good. And you like Herbology best, Potions second."
A soft gasp was torn from her chest and she looked at him with flummoxed surprise. "How… how did you know?"
He beamed down at her lightheartedly. "Well, that's easy, innit? You're in Advanced Herbology, and I heard what Snape said to you this week in your Advanced Potions interview – you've got a knack for the subject. I'm betting your N.E.W.T.s for those subjects were the easiest, huh?"
"Oh," she replied in wonder, seeming at a loss for words. "Yeah. I… I think I did well with them. We'll find out Monday or Tuesday, right?"
He nodded. "So, how'd you know about me and C.M.C.?"
Shrugging again, she looked at him as if it were obvious. "You helped your brother out during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, packing the dragons up after the First Task. Looked like you enjoyed it."
"Yeah, I did, but… how'd you know?" he asked with some suspicion. "Were you spying on me?"
Pansy giggled and blushed. "Actually, I was spying on your brother. We all were – every girl in our year from Slytherin, half the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and more than a few Gryffindors."
"Gah!" Ron huffed in righteous indignation and flipped over onto his back again, throwing his arms to the air. "Why is it that every woman digs on Charlie? I just don't get it!"
Pansy sat up on her elbows, chortling merrily. "It's the scars." She reached for his hand, flipping herself around, this time straddling him and pulled his hand up between them. Kissing and licking his Quidditch-battered knuckles, she playfully wiggled herself right over his erection. "We chicks dig scars, Ron. Didn't you know?" She sucked one finger into her mouth rather suggestively, and he felt a bolt of electricity shoot straight down his spine and into his cock. Groaning, he pressed his hips upwards in time to her slow humping.
"I've got scars," he smiled coyly. "Wanna see?"
"I've already seen," his partner reminded him in a sinfully seductive voice, dragging her center slowly over him and back down. "I'm sure I'll see again, too."
"Count on it," Ron growled, taking his hand from hers, grabbing her hips and thrusting up against her roughly.
Pansy squealed in delight. Her face lit up like the sun, her smile so brilliant and true it almost hurt to look upon it. Ron's heart pounded in his chest in counterpoint. He rubbed their bodies together for several minutes, watching her face transform into lustful desperation. "Damn, baby, you make it hard for a man to keep his wits." He let his hot hands roam up and down her thighs, pushing up her dress. He wanted at her!
"Stop, stop," she breathlessly surrendered, trying to be serious, but failing miserably as she kept giggling. "We need to finish this before time's up."
With a deep sigh, Ron stopped bouncing his girl up and down on his lap (much to his profound disappointment), but he did settle her on top of his dick firmly, anchoring her in place with a grip he maintained on her hips. This he would not give up – the sensation of her sweet spot nestling against his through her knickers and his slacks. It was too good a feeling. "All right then, keep apologizing, wench, before I decide to forget myself and throw you down to shag you rotten." He couched the demand with an arrogant smirk, and was tapped lightly on the cheek for his brazen attitude.
"Impatient git," Parkinson cheeked fondly, but in the next second, her smile faded and she became rather solemn. "Okay, I've got another one. I'm sorry for the time in Fifth Year that I screamed at you for the 'owl incident.' Remember that?"
Reluctantly, he nodded, feeling heat crawl up his cheeks at the memory, but unable to keep himself from snickering. Oh, man… The 'owl incident.' Damn, he should have known that would come up at some point. Yeah, that had been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.
They'd gotten into a blazing row at the Owlery when they'd accidentally bumped into each other (her leaving, him coming in), and in a fit of immaturity, he'd grabbed up the package in Pansy's hands, opened it and taunted her once he caught a gander of what was inside. Holding her specialty, catalogue-ordered thong knickers above her head and out of her reach, making her jump for them, had been (at the time) rather amusing. How was he supposed to know that Malfoy's Eagle Owl would find the enticement of green satin and lace to be an irresistible snack item?
Trying not to laugh as well, Parkinson distracted herself by watching her hands, which were once again smoothing his jacket, removing specks of imaginary lint. Apparently, that was a nervous habit of hers. "Mum was angry with me when she found out I'd been ordering sexy lingerie through the post at only fifteen, but that was nothing to her fury over having to go apologize to Lady Malfoy for causing her owl's death as a result of it choking on the bloody things."
Unable to stop himself, imagining the look on any of the Malfoys' faces when they'd been told the news, Ron burst into cackling laughter. Tears, literally, poured from his eyes and he howled in amusement. Pansy swatted him again. "Stop," she chastised sternly (although her grin kept the reprimand from being truly effective). "I lost a perfectly good pair of knickers that cost me my month's allowance, and the ability to keep secretly ordering the things because of you, you great prat!"
Grabbing ahold of her and pulling her down, he rolled her onto her back and loomed over her, continuing to bawl with hysterical glee into her shoulder. Pansy tsk'd in annoyance… which only made him crack up into another round of laughter. Eventually, she joined him in the hilarity of the situation.
"Bloody bird," she chortled. "Although, I guess suffocation by panties isn't a bad way to go."
Ron had never laughed so hard or so long in his life. If he hadn't been kneeling on a mattress already, he'd have been falling down and pissing his shorts. "Holy… hells…" he managed to gasp between pants for air. "We've done some… crazy shite... together, yeah?"
"I suppose," his woman snickered, seductively sliding her legs up the outside of his to wrap around his waist. "I'd like to do even more, though."
Ron's erection shot back to life, and the sudden crowding in his boxers made him groan. Unable to prevent himself, he tipped forward and hotly slid his lips over hers in a kiss designed to ignite them both. With a low growl in his throat, he kissed her until she was breathless and straining against him. Only then did he pull away.
They stared at each other in silence, and Ron realized right then and there that he wanted Pansy – not just for the sex (although that was tits up, too), but because she was a great catch. "You're so beautiful, so smart, so much fun, so fucking sexy… baby, you're it," he heard himself spouting off like some lovesick puppy, unable to stop the words tumbling from his mouth, drawn directly from the depths of his heart and mind. "I'm sorry I purposefully splashed you with rain earlier this year when I ran past you and hit a puddle, and for accidentally blowing up your cauldron in Second Year Potions, and for intentionally slipping a ground-up Puking Pastille into your soup last year when you were distracted…"
Pansy's jaw opened wide. "That was you? Why, you little snake!"
He kissed her three times for those three confessions, letting his lips buzz over hers as he pulled away gently. "And I'm sorry for always hurting your feelings – especially that day in the Transfiguration corridor earlier this week." He brushed her bangs to the side of her forehead softly. "I didn't know you were there, honest. And what I said…"
His witch finally shut him down with fingertips over his lips. "I pushed that fight. I'm sorry for that. For all of it, Ron. For seven years of cruel barbs, and slaps and shoves and getting you into trouble with teachers… I'm sorry." Her hand lightly brushed across his cheek, and he could feel the smoothness of her touch rub away all of the bad feelings between them. Unexpected tears slipped down her cheeks to fall into her hairline. "Really sorry."
Drawing him towards her with pressure against the back of his head, Pansy kissed him with a sweetness that melted Ron down to his bones. Their tongues and lips lingered over each other's, sampling with leisurely measure, prolonging pleasure, nurturing a connection that he could feel slowly liquefying itself into his skin, through his muscles, and into his heart.
Merlin help him, he was falling for Pansy Parkinson.
He let himself mull over that thought as they continued to savor each other's mouths, as her fingers continued to stroke the back of his neck, and as he caressed her thick, straight hair off her face and around the back of her ear with trembling fingers.
When the chimes rang out moments later, neither one was prepared to immediately break up their exploring. That took another five minutes-worth of soul-stealing kisses before it was possible to accomplish.
TO BE CONTINUED...
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Musical Selection for this Chapter: "Superhuman Touch" by Athelete. Lyrics are as follows…
I'm on fire.
Nothing's gonna hold me back.
Endless blue sky,
And a pocketful of tricks to try…
You pick a color and I sing it for you.
I know you feel the same way.
Say, Say, Say you feel the same way.
Your fingertips are like a superhuman touch.
Can't get enough of this electric love.
Burning the sun with just a wave of your hand.
Sparks flying out in every direction,
There's more of this to come.
I think it must be heaven…
Burning the sun with just a wave of your hand.
I'm on fire.
Golden echoes upon my face.
Tell those dreamers
they can dream up all they like in this place…
You pick a color and I sing it for you.
I know you feel the same way.
Say, Say, Say you feel the same way.
Your fingertips are like a superhuman touch.
Can't get enough of this electric love.
Burning the sun with just a wave of your hand.
Sparks flying out in every direction,
There's more of this to come.
I think it must be heaven…
Burning the sun with just a wave of your hand.
Just one day like this will keep me going on…
Tender kisses will keep me going on…
Your fingertips are like a superhuman touch.
Can't get enough of this electric love.
Burning the sun with just a wave of your hand.
Sparks flying out in every direction,
There's more of this to come.
I think it must be heaven…
Burning the sun with just a wave of your hand.
Seems like hell has broken loose;
It couldn't be more beautiful.
I just want to burn the sun with you.
Must be God to inspire the greatest minds in all of power…
I just want to burn the sun with you,
With just a wave of your hand.